The Man Who Fell From the Sky
by ImperialBoredom
Summary: In a world where monsters outnumber humans, an accidental visitor appears.  The problem: in this universe, he is dead.   First Sherlock fanfic/rated M for gore and violence
1. Chapter 1

Lestrade had seen many things in the five years since the plague. He had seen former human beings become monsters whose only hungers were for killing and human flesh and blood. He had witnessed friends and colleagues fall victim to both the plague and the monsters. The latter's capacity for brutality was something he had seen numerous times, but still could not truly comprehend. The worst thing he had seen was the aftermath of the final stand made by a group of orphaned children. He would never forget the sight of their torn carcasses lying amidst the monsters they had killed before being slaughtered themselves.

There was one thing, though, he had never seen before. The heavens offered faint comfort to the remaining humans of world. The daytime skies seemed sorrowful at the world's troubles. Heavy clouds blanketed the heavens, shifting from silver to coal. Only on rare occasions did the clouds break and refreshing sun warmed the cold world. The nighttime skies seemed eager to offer some comfort. When darkness fell, it became a tapestry of lights, illuminating the shadowy wrecks of cities and towns. Lestrade often found himself glimpsing the nighttime heavens. The steady stars reminded him of what his life had been before the plague hit. On this night, however, the skies did not reveal the stars or moon. This was due to the fact that the heavens were drowned out by a golden light.

Standing in the middle of a street, Lestrade marveled at the sight. The golden light had a hazy, milky quality. It swirled throughout the sky as far as he could see. It did not affect the natural light. Nothing around Lestrade was illuminated by this new light.

"Sir?"

Lestrade spun around, heart racing as he was brought out of his reverie. Though they were hidden in the shadows, he could make out the outlines of the two women he had brought with him on tonight's food finding mission.

"Christ, Molly, don't scare me like that," he said sharply.

The smaller of the two outlines raised her hand in apology. "Sorry. We were wondering where you were. We wanted to tell you we need to move on."

"There's nothing here, sir," said the second outline. "Someone snagged that store of fresh water from that house we went into last week."

Lestrade sighed. "Of course they did. That was probably the only store around here." He sighed again, glancing at the weird sky. "All right, let's move on and see if we can find that store of fruit. Sally, you go ahead since you're the one who found it."

The trio commenced walking down the empty street. They presented an odd sight to any of the hidden humans who peeked out of their spots and saw them. Molly and Sally wore what looked like hooded black coveralls. Both wore what looked like thick gauntlets on both arms. Their boots were worn and patched up. Lestrade wore similar coveralls in grey. His hands were covered by mesh-like gloves that hinted to what lay beneath his coveralls. Unlike the women, he left his hood down, finding the heavy material itchy against his scalp. He also wore a billowy coat he had stolen off a dead man's corpse. All three carried large, patched-up knapsacks.

The walk down the street was silence. They paid no heed to the ruined buildings or piles of rubble that lined both sides of the street. It was a familiar sight to them and one repeated throughout the remains of London and every city in the world. Some buildings were nests for the monsters and havens for humans. The three only scanned them for signs of the creeping shadows that spelled doom. Their ears analyzed every unusual noise that made them pause. If it was nothing, they kept moving. The golden sky overhead kept swirling about peacefully.

The journey to the store of fruit led them through an open side street and down on another street. Upon hearing what sounded like slimy squelching, they quickened their pace. Running was only used when hell broke loose. After a few minutes, Sally came to a halt. Molly nearly ran into her, but Lestrade seized her arm to stop her.

"We're here," said Sally, pointing to a vacant lot between the ruins of two brick buildings.

Lestrade was not pleased at the fact the store of fruit was in too vulnerable a spot. There was nothing in the lot to hide behind if they encountered trouble. The two neighboring buildings were too intact for his liking. There were enough walls on one for the monsters to hide behind and the other was still relatively upright despite its battered condition. That said, the need for food overpowered the need for safety.

"All right," he said after a moment, "come on. Molly and I will keep lookout."

The trio strode into the lot. The dirt beneath them was dark and gooey from something none of them wanted to imagine. When they reached the center of the lot, Sally suddenly knelt down and began scooping away the goop. Molly and Lestrade took spots near the neighboring buildings, keeping their eyes and ears alert for trouble. Sally worked quickly to move the gelatinous dirt away. When her gauntlet gently tapped against something metallic, she heaved the dirt away faster. Slowly but surely, what looked like a sheet of dirty metal with a handle attached to it. Another few minutes revealed the edges of the sheet. Huffing happily, Sally seized the handle and gingerly stood up to pull out a square metal locker that reached up to her shoulder. Her smile grew when she laid out down. It was heavy and heaviness usually indicated a full store of food or water. (At other times, it meant a decomposing body.)

Each locker had to be opened to a different way. It was a precaution to ensure no one hoarded, but people often worked around this. Upon closer inspection, Sally found that the locker was in good shape. It was not battered or broken, signs of someone's attempts to hoard the contents. As she had found it earlier, Sally knew exactly what to look for to open it. She removed her gauntlets and ran her fingers just below the edge of the lid. She found the familiar grooves and began to press her fingers into them. All Lestrade and Molly heard was the familiar hiss of air that always heralded the opening of a locker.

"Please tell me there's food inside," said Molly, her eagerness for fresh food evident in her words.

"Hold on," replied Sally, "let me have a proper look." She fell silent for a minute before they heard her squeak, "Yes. We have food and water."

Lestrade and Molly carefully stepped towards Sally, still keeping alert for danger. When they were near her, they turned to look into the locker. At one end of it lay three large, square jugs filled with pristine water. The next two rectangular containers had contents that surprised them. One held what looked like a loaf of lumpy bread and the other mandarins. The rest of the contents were the expected fare. There were two multi-gallon containers of water and several small green containers that contained dried fruit, vegetables, and other foods that were becoming scarce. These were stacked one atop another. Despite complaints that bags were easier to carry, it was an unspoken rule to use containers. Bags were not effective in keeping out bugs, rot, and contaminated gore that dripped down from the surface.

All three basked in the sight of food and water, but quickly brushed aside their delight to get down to business. Although there were three of them, Lestrade had made it clear from past missions that they only took enough food and water to sustain them. Hoarding food was not an option unless things became dire and he did not have a high opinion of hoarders who grabbed when it was not necessary. They grabbed enough of the dried fruits and vegetables, pulses, and some form of oats to sustain them. Sally placed the bread and mandarins in one of her knapsacks. Hesitation reappeared when it came time to decide how much water to take.

"I think we should take all of it," said Sally. "We might as well. We don't know how long it'll be before we find water again and no one has found fresh water in a while."

Lestrade rubbed his weary face with his hand. "I know, I know. If we don't find uncontaminated water soon, we're going to be suffering even more. That said, you know where I stand an-"

A loud squeak from Molly brought both Lestrade and Sally to their feet. They spun around, looking for trouble, but saw nothing. They rounded on Molly, who was busy gaping at the sky.

"Dammit, woman" hissed Sally, "what the hell?"

Molly said nothing. She simply stared at the sky in silence. Though her hood was still up, Lestrade could make out an expression of shock.

"Well," said Sally angrily, "what's wrong?"

Molly remained silent, but lifted her arm and pointed at the sky. Lestrade and Sally followed her finger to the sky. At this point, Sally gasped at the golden sky that she had been ignoring for the past few hours. Lestrade, however, was too busy wondering if he was going to die in the next few minutes.

The golden haze overheard no longer swirled about in a lazy fashion. It now moved in steady current to one fixed point that was several blocks away. This point was a brilliant disc that hovered proudly in the sky, reminding anything below of clear summer days. From what Lestrade could see, the disc seemed to be consuming the golden light, making itself grow bigger. Unlike the golden light, the disc actually illuminated its surroundings. A crystalline glow descended onto the streets below. As the trio stood watching, they could hear the faint sounds of hysterical shrieking. What brought them out of their reverie was a loud human scream that died out immediately.

"What do we do?" squeaked Molly.

"Get out of here,' said Sally. She was hoisting her sacks onto her shoulders. "If the monsters are awake, we need to get out of here now."

"There's not going to be time for that," said Lestrade as he shut the locker and furiously worked back into the ground. He and Molly began kicking the dirt back over it until it was concealed once more.

"Why not," demanded Sally.

Lestrade gestured frantically at the sky. The golden haze had disappeared, consumed by the disc. The disc had grown in size until the carcass of the city beneath it disappeared amid blinding light. The shrieking had grown in volume to a bestial pitch. The trio's hearts froze when they heard human screams among the shrieks.

"We need to hide," stated Lestrade.

"Where exactly?" squeaked Molly.

Lestrade looked around. Loathe as he was to admit it, the two brick buildings offered the best concealment. After a second's decision, he marched off the one that was still upright. Sally and Molly scrambled after him. Under normal circumstances, they would have studied the building before entering. The chances of finding a nest of monsters was always high. Precautions had to be taken. Yet with the shrieking growing louder and the disc (as Molly saw) growing larger, immediate action had to be taken. Lestrade kicked what was left of the rotting door away. He let Sally and Molly enter before following.

Darkness greeted them upon entry. They scrambled against one of the walls. The sacks were set at their feet. They stood still, waiting for a monster to come. After a few minutes, they released a sigh of relief.

"Anyone got those glow sticks?" whispered Sally.

There were shuffling noises on either side of her, followed by two sharp cracks, and the sudden appearance of two floating beams of white.

"You really need to carry some these," said Lestrade as he held up his stick.

The light of his and Molly's glow sticks was dim at best, but it was enough to illuminate their sanctuary. The building was nothing more than a shell. In its old life, it was a low, one-story building. It may have been a business or a private residence. There was nothing inside to reveal its old life. All that was left was a tiled floor covered by a thick layer of dirt and dried blood.

"So how long do we wait?" asked Molly.

"Until whatever is going on passes us by," said Lestrade. The shrieking was grating his ears. "We keep hidden until it's safe."

"And if trouble find us?" The nervousness in Molly's query was evident.

Lestrade sighed. "If trouble finds us, then we deal with it."

No one of them knew how long they hid in the building. After awhile, they sat on the floor, listening to the sounds outside. The shrieking had become a wave of monstrous sounds that flayed their ears. They could hear human screams that were cut off too soon and triumphant roars. The shrieking brought with it what sounded like a herd of buffalo stampeding wildly through the streets.

Sally kept her mind clear of any useless thoughts. She wanted to be ready when the monsters came. There was no room for mercy in the remains of the world. Molly silently hummed her favorite hymn. Remembering her favorite things was her way of calming down before a coming bloodbath. Lestrade did what he usually did before facing disaster. He reminded himself that the monsters were no longer rational, thinking human beings. Be they child or adult, they were now ruthless creatures that gloried in death. They were to be killed before they attacked.

Had they not been busy with their thoughts, they would have noticed the disc morphing. Shortly after they took refuge in the building, the disc floated silently for several minutes. Everything below had been consumed by light. It then began to expand again. This time, it twisted and writhed itself into a perfect sphere. The sphere did not remain idle for it slowly expanded downwards. Everything hidden in its light received another dose. Once it passed the illuminated section of the city, the light crept into everything. Beams of light bathed every inch of rubble and standing building in its path. The monsters roused by the light scrambled for safety. The humans who heard the terrified shrieks of the monsters scrambled to get away from them. The screams the trio heard were from the humans who crossed paths with the fleeing monsters and had been killed.

Lestrade, Sally, and Molly did not notice until Lestrade looked up and saw a thin ribbon of gold growing larger in the darkness. He stood up and strode to the open doorway, only to shrink back when his eyes were assaulted by blinding light. Sally and Molly stood up, now noticing more ribbons of light entering the building. The light did not pass straight through, but grew until every inch of the building was filled with it. Its radiance was such that the trip shut their eyes against it.

"What now!" wailed Molly. She could feel the light creeping beneath her eyelids.

"Quiet!" barked Lestrade. Despite the headache that was beginning to form, he kept his ears open for the shrieking. He could still hear it, but now it had lessened. The shrieking still audible now carried a note of fear. Whatever was going on outside had stricken the monsters with terror.

None of them knew how long they kept their eyes shut against the light. They simply waited for it to vanish. Sally kept her hands on her sacks, ready to run if necessary. Molly had resumed humming her favorite hymn. Lestrade was listening to the monsters' terrified shrieks slowly become silent. He wondered over what could be causing bloodthirsty beasts to become frightened puppies.

The light withdrew as slowly as it appeared. Its retreat was felt as the light beneath their eyelids slid out. All three waited a few minutes before slowly opening them. They found darkness around them once again. From where he still stood, Lestrade could see a wall of light retreating until he lost of it.

"I think we need to get out of here," said Sally as she stood and made for the door.

"Fine with me,' said Molly as she dusted off her shoulders. "That was the-"

She fell silent, her eyes seeking Sally. In the darkness, she saw Sally standing perfectly still. Sally's eyes were on Lestrade, who was motionless. No one said anything for they knew the others felt the ground beneath them begin to vibrate. It was not from a renewed stampede. Sally placed her hand on the wall. Even through her heavy gauntlet she could feel the building shake. The ground vibrations increased steadily.

Lestrade never knew what tipped him off first: the shaking, the churning feeling in his stomach or the gentle breeze that danced through the door. He figured it was the breeze for it smelled fresh instead of bloody. Whatever it was, he dove to the ground, extending an arm and knocking Sally flat. Molly followed suit and her timing was excellent for the world erupted around them.

The breeze transformed suddenly into a howling gale that ripped the roof of their shelter. The shaking became a violent undulating. They could themselves bob up and down as the ground writhed and swayed. The terrified howling of the monsters resumed, but it remained stationary. They were apparently waiting for things to become normal again. The gale became a diving tempest that made short work of everything in its path. The trio could hear heavy things being tossed about outside. Their own shelter was being taken apart brick by brick. With surprising speed, the tempest and shaking ceased. The trio had no time to breathe when the tempest resumed and something very large exploded nearby. The ground bucked and sent the trio and their sacks airborne. The tempest and shaking ceased again before they landed.

The building Lestrade, Sally, and Molly were in had been reduced to a few piles of brick that indicated where the walls once were. The roof was scattered amidst a wide field of debris. The buildings that had remained intact after the plague were now rubble. Molly was helping Sally up. Their sacks were still intact save for small gashes in the fabric. Lestrade eased himself off his back and into a sitting position. He stared at the destruction around him.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" demanded Sally.

"Do you think that light had something to do with it," whispered Molly.

"It did."

The women looked at Lestrade. He was standing up, looking out at the street. "Bring the sacks, you two and follow me." He gingerly made his way out of their ruined shelter.

Though confused, the women grabbed their sacks and his and followed him. Lestrade was standing by the street, looking down at something. They peered over his shoulders to see the jagged hunks of what used to be the street. Despite the damage, they could smell the heavy odor of gasoline and tar. Tendrils of grey smoke wafted above the street. The trio cast their heads up the street and saw that the damage and smoke extended as far as they could see. They shifted their gaze down the street and saw a thick cloud of smoke hovering over something a few blocks away.

Without a word, Lestrade strode off, leaving Sally and Molly to scramble after him. He navigated his way through the debris and rubble. The more difficult portions required climbing or crawling through rubble to pass. It took a few minutes to reach the cloud. As they had no idea what Lestrade was doing, Sally and Molly could only mimic his actions. When he finally stopped, they stopped on both sides of him. Had they looked at each other, they would have seen three pairs of wide eyes staring at the scene below them.

Whatever had exploded had left a shallow, but wide crater in the street. The impact had tossed everything around it into the air. There were small hills of debris on both sides of the street. Large hunks of street stood up in a conga line along the perimeter of the crater. The cloud of smoke hung low over the crater. The smell of gas and tar was thick enough to make the trio wish they had brought their oxygen masks with them. Despite the damage, they could all see that something was lying in the middle of the crater. Yet the cloud and rising smoke made it difficult to see what it was.

Lestrade looked around him and spotted a grapefruit-sized piece of concrete by Molly's foot. He bent down, picked it up, and tossed it into the crater. Despite its depth, he wondered if it was stable to walk on. When the concrete landed in the crater, he waited to hear the familiar sounds of collapsing road. Surprisingly, the crater did not buckle or collapse. Seeing that it held firm, Lestrade gingerly stepped into the crater. Sally and Molly, wondering if their fearless leader had finally lost his mind, exchanged looks before following. Sally had to hunch a bit for her head would have passed through the cloud.

Once they were inside the crater, they could see that its surface was covered by a fine silver ash. Walking through it was the equivalent of walking atop compacted snow. What worried Molly was the crunching noise it made. It was loud enough to alert anything nearby of their presence. She glanced at Sally, but Sally's attention was on Lestrade. He had reached the middle of the crater. He hovered over the object that lay motionless on the ground. When they finally reached the middle, Sally and Molly were stunned. The object was not a meteor, meteorite, or any sort of space debris. What lay sprawled at their feet was a man.


	2. Chapter 2

Lestrade, Sally, and Molly did not move. They stood still, staring at the man at their feet. Their minds raced along different paths. Sally wondered how a simple food-foraging mission could turn into something out of a science-fiction novel. Lestrade pondered how long they had before the monsters decided to come out and explore the destruction. Molly glanced at the sky briefly, curious if this was an alien who had fallen out of his saucer. Despite the differences in thinking, their attention remained on the man.

The man lay in a loose fetal position with his back towards them. His attire offered them clues, but no solid information. He wore what was once a suit. The jacket was relatively intact save for a conga line of burn holes on the back. The trousers did not fare as well. Everything below mid-thigh was frayed and shredded into fine white tangles of fiber. Whatever shoes he had worn were now gone. His bare feet were completely dirty. The trio waited to see if he would move. None of them were keen on approaching him. It was not so much out of fear as it was out of confusion. Given their world, they were not sure if he was human, monster or something else. They kept a silent watch over him for a few moments. The silence was broken when Sally spoke.

"What do we do?" she whispered. "We have to get the food and water back and there's no telling what the hell we're going to encounter."

"She's right," said Molly, "but we can't just leave him here."

"We have to if he's already dead," replied Sally. "There are the monsters to think about, dear"

"I know that," snapped Molly, "but there are the Rules-"

"Sir," said Sally, ignoring Molly and looking at Lestrade, "what do you think?"

Lestrade pondered over what to do. Both women were right. The food and water needed to go back to their sanctuary. The monsters were the biggest threat as they would be appearing when they realized it was safe to venture out of their shelters. On the other hand, the Rules that now governed human life had to be applied. Lestrade knew he would never forgive himself if he left a fellow human being to be consumed by the monsters. He knew Sally and Molly would feel the same.

"We apply the Rules," said Lestrade firmly. He looked at the women. "You know them: if he's alive and a monster, we kill him; if he's dead, we torch him, and if he's human and alive, we protect him."

Sally and Molly looked at each and nodded in agreement. With that, the trio lay their sacks on the ground and moved towards the man. They knelt and gently moved the man onto his back. When he was lain flat, they took additional note of his appearance. The shirt he wore beneath his jacket was dirtied by black stains. This was odd as the ash beneath him was the same as the ash in the rest of the crater. His face presented a major problem. Sweaty black grime covered his face and head in thick layers. Lestrade tried to wipe away the grime with his hand, but found that it simply smeared. They could tell he was indeed male, but the grime made it impossible to discern his age or anything else. He had no major lacerations or wounds that would cause them trouble. Overall, he was an unconscious man in a ruined suit lying in the middle of a crater.

Lestrade removed his coat and rolled it up into a tight bundle. He gently raised the man's head, placed the coat underneath, and lay the man's head back down. Sally knelt at the man's feet, her hands gripping the man's ankles. She kept her grip light, but strong. Molly, as the only one with medical training, had removed her gauntlets and was busy checking for the man's pulse. Her comrades kept silent, allowing her to listen for a sign of life in peace. She needed all the quiet she could get as she could not find the man's pulse at either of his wrists. She lay her head on his chest and listened for his heartbeat. When she heard nothing, she placed two fingers on his neck. Lestrade and Sally knew she got something when she raised her head off the man's chest and loomed over his face.

"He's alive," confirmed Molly after a few minutes. She put on her gauntlets. "I have a pulse, but it's weak."

"Well, that answers one question," said Sally. "How do we check his humanity?"

"No need to worry," said Molly. "I put one of the vials with the solution in your left thigh pocket. Can you hand it to me?"

Sally reached for the pocket in question, unzipped it, and felt around inside until her fingers brushed against warm glass. She gently pulled out what appeared to be an empty rectangular bottle of nail polish. The thin button on the bottom of the bottle told her what it really was. She handed it to Molly, who pressed the button.

The vial was one of millions that had been produced by a pharmaceutical company in the U.S. just weeks after the plague had decimated half of the U.S. population. Researchers, using blood samples from infected and normal individuals, discovered that a combination of chemicals could discern who was infected and who was not. If the chemicals were applied to an normal blood sample, the blood turned clear. When applied to infected blood, the chemicals turned it a dirty urine hue. The company began producing the chemical solution rapidly. Another researcher developed a special container the size of a nail polish bottle to contain the solution. The bottle had a built-in button that released a small needle (residing the neck) that would withdraw a small sample of blood. A strong tiny light, also built into the bottle, would come on automatically to allow the person to see what color the blood turned into. The company sent the recipe for the solution to its counterparts all over the world. Unfortunately, it was far too late for some countries.

Molly was one of the few humans who had a steady supply of the vials at her disposal in all of Europe. Profiteers she encountered were jealous over her supply. The vials fetched them a hefty price on the black market. Neither Lestrade or Sally asked where she got them. What was important to them was her having them. It proved useful in previous situations. Using the vial on the man was no different. Molly had inserted the needle into the man's wrist. The little light turned on as blood dripped into the bottle and mixed with the solution. Lestrade and Sally breathed a sigh of relief when Molly announced, "It's clear. He's human."

"Well, that's good," said Sally as she removed her hands from the man's ankles. "Now what do we do? How are we going to move him?"

"We'll have to carry him," said Lestrade as he rose to his feet. He gently removed his coat from under the man's head and put it on. "Me and you will carry him and Molly, you'll have to manage the sacks."

Molly cast a pained look at the sacks, but offered no complaints.

"And how are we going to carry him?" asked Sally as she rose to her feet.

Lestrade analyzed the size of the man before answering. "We'll have to carry him pallbearer-style. One gets the head and the other gets the legs. What do you want?"

"I'll take the legs," sighed Sally.

Molly got up and began hoisting the sacks onto her shoulders. The weight made her shoulders and back whine in agony. It took a little while for Lestrade and Sally to situate their cargo onto their shoulders. The man had to be shifted onto his side in order to be carried. Sally clasped her arm firmly around the man's legs. Lestrade knew he would be sore later as he had to place the man on his armpit. The man's head lolled to the side and his arm bumped against Lestrade's back. When they were ready, they carefully tread out of the crater. Once they were on the street, they threaded their way through the jagged hunks. Sally, as the one more familiar with the area, guided the way. They had to stop frequently to readjust their loads and let Molly, huffing under the weight of the sacks, catch up.

In their haste to leave, they neglected one thing. The vial was still in the crater. Molly had lain it aside when she began loading the sacks onto her shoulders. Neither Lestrade or Sally noticed the vial. Under normal circumstances, the vial would have been taken with them. It was too dangerous to leave anything with blood lying around. A monster would be able to use it to track down fresh prey. Alas, the trio broke this vital Rule. The events of the night had driven this important Rule out of their minds. They were already too far down the street to go back. None of them remembered as they found a large street and turned onto it. The vial lay in the ash, but not for long.

One of the monsters gingerly crept into the crater and crouched down. In his former life, he had once been a subordinate of Lestrade's. He once prided himself on his abilities to the point of arrogance. That arrogance, combined with his sleazy manners and skulking demeanor, made the skin of everyone he met crawl in disgust. Women refused to work with him alone as he made salacious advances. Men had no patience for him as he treated them like stupid babies. He had no social life to speak of, devoting his time to banging drunk, desperate women and his extensive porn collection. As far as monsters went, the plague made him an excellent killing machine. He may have been useless in his pre-plague job, but Anderson was flawless as a monster.

The plague had been kind to Anderson. He was one of the rare creatures who still retained much of his human physique. Anderson could still walk upright. He had a habit of sneaking into abandoned clothing stores to rummage through the dwindling stock of clothing. On this night, he wore his shredded black trousers and a white dinner jacket that had become pink from being splattered with blood too many times. They were loose on his body. He was lean for a monster, but he blamed this on running after fleeing humans too much. His skin was paler than it had been before his infection. Anderson, like the majority of his kind, lurked in the shadows and came out only at night. Only the monsters with high levels of the plague could venture out in the day.

For the humanity still visible, there were telltale signs of what Anderson now was. His shifty eyes had grown larger. This allowed him to see in the dark better. His lips and chin were a berry-black hue and covered with a thin film of dried internal fluids. The hands were the ultimate giveaway. It was the same for Anderson as it was for 95% of the world's monsters. The plague forced the bones of fingers to fuse together and contort the fingers into a claw-like pose. The bones would then rip through the fingertips and continue lengthening until the human was fully infected. The new monster would find they had ten talons that could tear into anything from human flesh to steel. Unfortunately, movement became limited. The fingers could no longer be straightened or move in any way save in a gripping or tearing fashion.

Anderson squatted on his haunches and buried his talons in the ash. It was surprisingly cool and airy to the touch. It was a mellow sensation that pleased him. Like a child at a beach, Anderson amused himself with the ash. He made little patterns with his talons, awkwardly shifted together little mounds, and even attempted to make a little castle. Such was his amusement that it took his nose awhile to notice the scents. Unlike most monsters, Anderson's sense of smell of pathetic. His nose cost him many a meal. It finally proved useful as it relayed to his infected brain not one, but four smells. Anderson lifted his head, inhaling the aromas deeply. A chuckle escaped him when he recognized their owners.

He recognized Lestrade's scent immediately. There was no mistaking Lestrade. Beneath the veneer of sweat and grime was a haze of weariness only attributable to Lestrade. Sally's scent was the strongest. Only in death would Anderson be unable to recognize the smell of his former lover. Hers was a mix of excitement, sweat and the barest hint of vanilla. All this was hidden beneath an atmosphere of blood. Sally had slaughtered so many monsters in her time that their blood had become part of her natural scent.

Molly's was the most confusing. It was the unmistakable aroma of clinical sterility, soap, and gunpowder. Anderson shook his head. Molly's scent reflected her time in the morgue. The soap portion hinted that she was lucky enough to bathe on a frequent basis. The gunpowder was the confusing aspect. Sally was the psychotic butcher who carried weapons. Molly was simply the medical person. Anderson shook his head and turned to the fourth and final scent. He raised his head high and inhaled deeply. He froze and then inhaled again.

And again.

And one more time until he had to exhale. His heart pounded in shock.

_Impossible…_

Anderson dropped to all fours, sniffing the ash. This scent he recognized quite well. How he did not notice it sooner stunned him. He shuffled forward, nose to the ash, his brain taking in all the data they could. This scent was similar to Molly's, but belonged to a male. Unlike the scents of Lestrade, Sally, Molly, and every human he had encountered, this scent was wrong for two reasons. It was a miasma of things that no longer existed in the diseased world. Good, clean things that roused dim memories of his human past. This, though, was not important when he remembered one important fact. The owner of the fourth scent had been dead for five years.

Anderson shuffled forward, sniffing the ash eagerly. He paid no attention to where he was going. He did not notice he was heading right for the center of the crater. The scent of the fourth human grew stronger as he neared the center. It was when he lifted his head that his eyes fell on the forgotten vial. He froze, staring at the little object with narrowed eyes. Even now, he recognized the little vial that all monsters despised. He stared at the vial for a moment, deciding what to do. He finally reached out a hand and used his talons to scoop the vial towards him. When it was close, he leaned forward and sniffed.

Lestrade and Sally halted when a high-pitched whoop of joy broke the silence. They had been traveling down the large street they entered earlier. They marveled in silence over the fact the remains of the buildings on this street were still intact. They had expected the force of whatever had fallen to make the crater (only Molly entertained the notion that the man fell out of the sky) would have destroyed a wider area. It became apparent that the force preceding and following the object had destroyed only the immediate area. As they slowly trudged away from the crater, they had noticed that the buildings further away from the crater suffered damage, but were relatively intact. When they found the large street and turned onto it, they were shocked to see the buildings were untouched. Slightly heartened by the sight, the three continued moving.

The going was faster, but still slow. Lestrade and Sally often had to readjust their unconscious cargo. Lestrade's shoulder howled at the dead weight it carried. Sally had to clamp down with both hands on the man's legs to keep them from falling. Hard as they had it, Molly was the one who struggled the most. The weight of the sacks was causing her to fall further behind her comrades with each tiresome step. She had temporary relief whenever they stopped. They paid no heed to her when they continued. She watched their backs grow smaller as they moved further ahead. They did not notice her until they stopped.

"What the bloody hell was that?" demanded Sally. She cocked to the side, listening.

"Damned if I know," huffed Lestrade. "Let's just keep going. Still got the food, Molly?" When there was no answer, Lestrade looked over his free shoulder. "Molly!"

"Molly!" called Sally, worry evident.

"Coming," came the weary response.

Lestrade and Sally craned their necks painfully to see their poor friend tottering towards them. She looked as though she would fall over at any moment. Lestrade and Sally exchanged a look and carefully lowered the man off their shoulders and onto the ground. They then rushed forward to help Molly.

"Oh, bless you both," Molly wheezed as they removed the sacks from her shoulders. She dropped to her knees, breathing heavily. "I need a break."

"You could have said something," said Sally sharply. "We would have stopped."

"Not for long, though," replied Molly. She looked at Lestrade. "You heard that thing earlier, right?"

"We did," he replied, "and we need to keep moving, but can't if you're going to fall behind."

"Well, what do we do?" asked Sally as she helped Molly to her feet.

They looked at the man and at the sacks. Both were a priority. The food and water would sustain them if doled out carefully. The man was human and, according to the Rules, had to be helped. They knew they would feel guilty if they left the man behind. There was the option of leaving him behind, but Sally and Molly knew Lestrade would never agree to it. After a few moments of silence, an idea came to Molly. She knew her comrades would not like it, but it was the only viable solution in her mind.

"You two take the food and water. I'll stay with our guest."

Lestrade and Sally rounded on her. She raised a hand to silence their angry protests. "I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I'm the only one who has medical training. I can try to help him if he wakes up. If I do die, you two will have more food and water."

"Absolutely not," snarled Lestrade. "I am not going to leave you here to die."

Molly looked at him. "Would you rather we all die if we're too slowed down? You two are faster than me and stronger. If there is trouble, than you two can defend yourselves."

"Molly-" began Sally.

Molly's eyes narrowed. Placing her fists on her hips, she demanded, "What would rather lose: the food and water or the man?"

Lestrade and Sally exchanged a long glance, visually arguing over their decision. They finally made their choice. They began slinging the sacks onto their shoulders. Once the last had been slung on Sally's shoulder, the two began walking away. Molly made for the man until she felt strong fingers grip her chin and tilt her head up. She found Lestrade looking at her.

"I expect to survive," he whispered firmly.

Molly gave a small smile. "I'll try, sir."

Lestrade released her and continued moving with Sally. Molly watched as her comrades begin running as best as they could down the street. The sacks bounced soundly against them. She watched until they became small specks in the darkness. Once they were completely out of her sight, she looked down at the man. He was still unconscious.

"I really wish you would wake up," she told him as she knelt by him. "That way, I wouldn't have to figure out how I'm going to move you."

Anderson peeked out from behind the door of one building. He stifled his whimpers of joy at the sight of the unconscious feast that awaited him. When he smelled the vial, he let out a shriek of joy when he smelt blood. Fresh, uninfected blood. A thing so rare as most humans suffered from some ailment that soured their blood. Anderson leapt up and sniffed the air wildly. Once he got a lock on the aroma of this fresh blood, he leapt out of the crater and hopped through the mangled street. It took him little time to find the street the humans had turned onto to. Yet he did not charge after them. He dove into the first building he found and proceeded to follow them through the skeletons of the buildings. He barely registered the hushed clicks of the monsters who resided in some of them.

When he heard their voices, Anderson stopped. Looking around, he found himself inside the cluttered husk of a stone building. Office furniture of various sizes had been piled into a mound by someone. Anderson briefly wondered if this was the nest for a monster, but pushed the thought aside. There was fresh prey to be killed. Looking around, he found no windows, but a door. He moved towards it. It was a simple wooden door that still clung to hinges. He gave it a tentative poke. It swung open silently. Chuckling he stepped out and hid behind it. He slowly peeked out.

He could see Lestrade and Sally picking up heavy sacks and slinging them onto their shoulders. Molly watched them take each one until there was none left. They began moving away and Molly turned her attention. He snorted when he saw Lestrade stop, turn back to Molly, and reach out and seize her chin. They exchanged something he could not hear briefly. Lestrade let go of Molly and began walking away. Anticipation flared within Anderson, but he forced it down. Though he was an excellent killing machine, he was not stupid enough to take on his former boss and lover. Sally reached new levels of craziness when battling monsters. Lestrade did not have her lunacy, but was still a ruthless fighter.

Molly, on the other hand…

Anderson watched with her as Lestrade and Sally became tiny specks in the distance. When they finally disappeared, they turned their attention to the man. Anderson licked his lips. Hunger flared in his belly as he studied Molly and her unconscious charge. It pushed into every crevice of body to the point Anderson could no longer control himself. With an excited chortle, he stepped out of the building and charged to where Molly and the man lay. The rapid patter of his feet alerted Molly to the danger. She looked up just in time to see Anderson barreling right into her.

_Thank you to the reviewers and all readers. I'd also like to express my apologies for three things. One is this chapter. I'm sorry for the weirdness and for anything that confuses anyone. Second is the review thing. A reviewer was kind enough to let me know (thank you for that). Third is updating. Just so you know, I'm not a speedy updater. I'll try to have ch. 3 up as soon as I can, but, fair warning, you may have a bit of a wait. _


	3. Chapter 3

A lull in a fight occurred a few blocks from where Lestrade and Sally had left Molly and the man. The scene was the corner of an intersection. Four very imposing stone buildings stood at each corner of the intersection. On one stood a massive grey box with cracked half-moon windows running along the top like jagged fangs. Across from it stood a smaller, but no less massive, brick-colored box with blown-out square windows on its façade. On the third corner stood the tallest building. It was a five-story place with one side made of glass. It was boot-shaped when viewed from the side. Its collapsed entrance jutted out towards the street. The fourth was the burnt husk of one of the international banks.

Beneath the eyes of these buildings ran an intersection. No human, save the craziest, dared venture along the roads. Monsters had made nests within all four buildings. There was enough room in all to accommodate hundreds of monsters of every size. Humans unwise or unlucky enough to venture by any of the buildings were never seen again.

On this night, two dozen monsters had poured into the very center of the intersection. They were half-starved things that prowled the street like mangy canines. The scraps of their rotting clothing hung loose off their frames. Their throaty growls and snarls filled the air. Nearly all of them bore thin slices that dripped blood onto the street. These came courtesy of the two men they had encircled like eager hyenas.

One was a lithe, pale man with an annoyed expression on his face. He could feel beads of sweat dripping down his shorn head. He wore a blue pair of coveralls over his regular clothes and a heavy pair of combat boots. He wore no gauntlets or gloves. At his feet lay a large green duffel bag. His companion was a stout middle-aged man. His gaunt face indicated he was someone who had lost weight far too quickly. He too wore blue coveralls and combat boots. Another large duffel bag lay at his feet. He wore fingerless black gloves with a coated grip along the palm.

Each man wielded identical weapons. Luck, ever fickle with them, had allowed them to find two scythes amidst a pile of ash two months earlier. These were not the handy tools of agriculture. These scythes were the tall, imposing kind seen in depictions of the Grim Reaper. Though their long handles were broken, both blades were still intact. It took a blitz attack by dozen child monsters to reveal the head-lopping sharpness of each blade. The men have always carried them since then.

"So, Mr. Stamford," the pale man said, "wish we had brought the map?"

Stamford rolled his eyes. "Well, Mr. Dimmock, if you had remembered to put the map into your pocket, then maybe we wouldn't have gotten lost."

Dimmock shrugged. "Would the map have helped?"

Stamford sighed. "No, probably not."

A monster charged at Dimmock. It was a pale female wearing the tattered remains of a wedding dress. She slashed at Dimmock's torso. Dimmock leapt back and clutched his scythe tighter. He dodged several wild swipes. Despite her ferocity, her hunger made her slower. When the monster reared back, readying another attack, Dimmock saw his chance. He sliced at the monster's exposed midriff. Her guttural scream made Dimmock and Stamford's ears whimper. Dimmock looked at her stomach. Blood flowed from a deep slice that made the monster topple over in pain. The other monsters immediately abandoned their human prey. They crowded around their fallen comrade.

"Come on!" shouted Stamford as he grabbed his duffel bag.

Dimmock followed suit. They began running down the street. The female's pained whimpers were cut short. Neither man turned to look over his shoulder as they both knew what they would see. It was not uncommon for monsters to cannibalize their own kind if they were too lazy or hungry to kill a human. Monster-flesh did not taste as good as human flesh, but food was food. Had the men looked, they would have seen a small crowd of monsters hovering over the now-dead female. Others had loped off to their nests, having snagged a piece of flesh or organ. The crowd would gorge on every piece of female they could until there was nothing left. When they returned to their nests, they would leave behind chewed bones and another gooey stain on the street.

Dimmock and Stamford continued running until they knew they were far enough from the monsters. They slowed down until they came to a panting stop. After a minute of catching his breath, Stamford spoke.

"Nice cut."

Dimmock chuckled a bit. "Thanks."

Stamford looked around. They were now surrounded by the crumbled remains of buildings. "Should we find shelter or do you want to continue looking for water?"

Dimmock straightened. "Let's go find some shelter. I've had enough fun for tonight."

The two men began walking down the street, chatting quietly. Their ears were perked, anticipating any odd sound that would signal trouble. As they heard nothing unusual, they continued chatting. Their talk eventually returned to the intersection.

"I guess we should consider ourselves lucky," said Stamford, "Those things seemed to be the human ones."

Dimmock nodded. "Yeah, lucky indeed. I know we got lucky tonight, but there's no telling about later."

Stamford hitched his duffel bag to his shoulder. "Well, look on the bright side. We didn't encounter the _other _beasts."

Dimmock stifled a shudder. In the five years since London fell to the plague, he had seen horrors that burned themselves into his memory. Monsters like those from the intersection were responsible for many atrocities and deaths. Not even their murderous skills, though, could rival the _other_ monsters.

Sensing his friend's mood, Stamford decided to change subjects. "Where do you want to shelter for the night? I'm not as familiar with this part of town as you are."

Dimmock stopped and looked around. To his surprise, they had traversed into a block that Dimmock had passed through several times in the past. Their feet had somehow carried them into a less-dangerous part of the city. The buildings were either crumbling piles of materials or intact, empty shells.

"Let's go down one more block and turn left. There's an old clothing store we bunk in."

The two men continued walking down the street. Upon reaching the end of the block, they turned left. Stamford watched as Dimmock scanned both sides of the street, looking for the store. He did not feel annoyed at the sight of his friend looking for a building he claimed to know. It was not uncommon nowadays for buildings to be destroyed in a battle or become a nest for monsters. Eventually, Dimmock raised his arm and pointed it out.

"There it is, home for the evening," he said.

Stamford looked, expecting a regular sized store. What he saw was a black cube with blown-out windows and a decapitated mannequin jutting through one of them. The cube was small, indicating it may have been a boutique. The metal front door was still attached to its hinges. Dimmock saw the unimpressed look on his friend's face, but bit his tongue. He knew it was not much, but Stamford would see its usefulness once they entered. Dimmock walked towards it with Stamford trudging along behind him. Upon reaching the front door, they paused. Clutching their scythes tighter and taking a deep breath, they gingerly entered the building.

The interior nearly obscured by two mountains of debris. It was too dark to see what was in those massive piles, but the jutting shapes of each indicated there were more mannequins and furniture buried within each. Stamford watched Dimmock's posture relax. It was clear there were no monsters hiding inside. If there were, they would be suffering through another fight.

"Follow me," said Dimmock as he began gingerly stepping between the two mounds of debris. "Watch your eyes. There's still some sharp junk that can cut you."

Stamford said nothing as he traversed the narrow gap between the two mounds. He kept his tread light, not wishing to cause an avalanche that would give away their shelter. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out some of the items that formed the mountains. There were sooty mannequins, ripped offices chairs of every style, a few square tables, and an untold amount of clothing. After eyeballing a leering male mannequin head, Stamford retuned his attention to Dimmock. To his great surprise, strong silver light poured through a doorway in the back.

"Dimmock?" called Stamford gingerly.

"Sorry, still haven't gotten the hang of fixing this light," came the sheepish reply. The light dimmed slowly, allowing Stamford to see that the doorway was situated in the back wall of the building. As with the majority of buildings, the door was missing. Stamford stepped out from between the mountains and into the space between them and the back wall. He took a calming breath before walking through the doorway. What he saw surprised him greatly. Dimmock smiled at his friend's face.

The room was a snug, but still intact break-room. It was a windowless room of sooty wooden paneling. Two square tables stood in different parts of the room with accompanying metal chairs. Two old vending machines stood together in one far corner. The ceiling, a solid sheet of tan-colored material, had not caved in. As far as Stamford could tell, there was nothing that would cause trouble. His gaze fell to the nearest corner. The light had come from a tall, curving lamp. The single bulb glowed gently, bringing a small bit of comfort to Stamford.

"I can't believe this place still has power," said Stamford as he carried his bag to the table where Dimmock was busily emptying his.

Dimmock chuckled. "Yeah, well it took me months to figure out how to get the back-up generator to run quietly."

Stamford's head shot up. "Wait, there's a generator here! How can it still have power when the whole of London is in the dark?"

"Don't know," replied Dimmock with a shrug. He plopped into a seat. "All I know is that this place is still connected to some power station that's still on and I'm not going to complain about having light that isn't fire. Besides, I'll take a bit of human comfort where I can get it."

Stamford said nothing. He too did not mind having a small reminder of easier days. He sat down in another seat and hoisted his bag onto the table. He unzipped it and began unloading the contents. Dimmock had already finished and waited for Stamford to finish. Once he was done, both men tossed aside their bags and stared at the table.

Before their run-in at the intersection, the two had been gathering a cache of food they had hidden in the hull of a school. They had planned to search for water as their stash was dry and their canteens were low. They had managed to find two small bottles of pristine water in a different building and had planned to look for more. They had gathered enough food to sustain them for at least two days. It was not much, but they would stretch the food and water out to last. They had procured dried fruit, vegetables, jerky, and small bags of oatmeal and flour.

After a moment, Dimmock asked, "What do you want?"

"The dried tomatoes and apples," said Stamford. Dimmock slid two small blue containers to him. He in turn took a small packet of jerky and a container of dried bananas.

The two men ate in silence, savoring their fare as best as they could. They no longer had the luxury of throwing away food they disliked. Every bit was to be consumed. Their stomachs no longer grumbled if they became hungry. Theirs was a constant hunger, a deep gnawing in the gut that was never satisfied by their meager fare. This hunger craved sumptuous feasting, but the two men had learned to ignore it. They had to survive on what they ate.

Neither paid attention to the time. They chewed their dried meals slowly. Dimmock resembled a cow chewing its cud as he chewed his jerky. Stamford made his tomatoes and apples bearable by using them to reenact a scene from _The Odyssey_. Apple-Odysseus was slaughtering the Tomato-Suitors when a shrill whistle broke the silence.

Both men jumped. Neither said a word. They cocked their heads towards the doorway, listening for signs of disturbance. Another whistle ruptured the silence, but careful listening made clear it was coming from outside their shelter. The men looked at each other. Dimmock cocked his head towards the dark doorway. Stamford nodded. They gingerly got up and made their way back into the darkness. The light allowed them easier passage between the mountains of debris. Instead of going near the front door, they scooted to one of the windows. They crouched low and slowly lifted their heads to peek. What they saw made them drop low.

"What the hell are so many monsters doing out?" hissed Stamford.

"No idea," whispered Dimmock, "but something's disturbed them."

"What?" demanded Stamford as he inched his way back up to peek again. "I heard nothing."

"Neither did I," said Dimmock, "but whatever it is, it needs to watch out. They've got a whole army of monsters heading for them."

The two remained at the window, watching the parade of monsters pass by. Males and females of every age and size loped along the street. They tittered and clicked in excitement. Something grand had caught their attention. They moved as a herd, thinking only of that one thing. Dimmock and Stamford exchanged confused looks. Elderly monsters shuffled past, snarling at the younger ones to slow down. After fifteen minutes, the parade of monsters slowed and then ceased.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Dimmock.

"I have no idea," said Dimmock.

Silence fell on the two. They pondered over what they had just seen. Usually, monsters moved together if there was a fresh source of food or if something alerted them to danger. They wondered what could rouse so many from their lairs. The distant boom they heard above them provided the dreadful answer.

  
Anderson was not a happy monster.

He had expected to kill Molly and sneak off with the unconscious man as his prize. He had expected to find some quiet hovel and enjoy sinking his teeth into the man's soft flesh. He would have enjoyed gulping down fresh blood and fattening himself on warm innards. Molly dashed those hopes by putting up a determined fight.

After barreling into her, the two tumbled to the ground. Molly winced as her back connected with the street. She cast a quick glance at the man. Her heart sank as he remained motionless, oblivious to the danger he was in. The pleased growl above her reminded her of her predicament. She cast her eyes back to the monster above her. Anderson crouched over her, his filthy face a mask of hunger. He managed to pin Molly's arms by sinking his talons into the concrete. Molly thrashed about, trying to wrench her arms free, but Anderson curled his hands and kept her trapped. Amidst her struggling, Molly saw opportunity. Anderson was in an awkward position. His upper body was pressed close to hers, but his lower body was not. He was nearly straddling her, but there was enough room between his splayed legs to allow her to move. She kept his attention by thrashing about while sneaking a leg upward. Anderson did not notice the curling leg until he felt her kick his leg. He grunted in surprise.

"Get off me, you foul thing!" she roared.

Molly rained desperate, awkward kicks on Anderson's legs, but none broke his grip on her arms. Her eyes wandered to his unprotected crotch. Uncurling her leg, she managed to deliver a kick to Anderson's groin. She feared for a terrible second that not even that broke his grip, but the shrill squeal that greeted her ears told her it did. Anderson tumbled back, his now-free hands reaching for his injured crotch. Molly, now free, delivered another kick to his groin. Anderson howled in agony and tumbled to the ground. He curled up, cupping himself gently, pained hisses escaping him.

Molly scrambled to her feet. Anderson was too busy tending to himself to pay much heed to her. She leapt to the man, reached down, seized his ankles, and tried to drag him away. Unsurprisingly, the man's dead weight proved impossible to move. Upon seeing Anderson start staggering to his feet, Molly dropped the man's ankles. Mentally muttering a prayer, she flexed the index finger of her left gauntlet. Anderson's ears perked upon hearing the smooth glide of metal of against metal. He turned his head just in time to receive a blow to the jaw that made him see stars. He tumbled back, but did not fall. He shook his head and glared at Molly.

Molly stood between him and the man. Anderson could see her eyes flaring with fear and rage under her hood. It was what she clutched in her hands that kept his attention. The weapon she had appeared to be nothing more than a hardy-looking silver baseball bat. There were two differences between it and regular metal bats. The blow told Anderson it was made of a stronger metal. (The bat was made of a metal that was light enough for Molly to wield, but heavy enough to cause damage.) There were also three rings of curved blades encircling the top section of the bat. (These appeared courtesy of a button Molly had just pressed along the handle.) Anderson failed to notice that her left gauntlet was missing.

"All right, you, I may not be Sally, but that doesn't mean I won't bash your filthy brains out!" snarled Molly as she awaited Anderson's move.

Anderson did not disappoint. With a snarl, he lunged at her. Molly side-stepped him and raised her weapon. Anderson roared as he was pelted with blows on his back. The force caused him to trip over the man and stumble to the ground. Molly gave him no reprieve.

Blow after blow, curse after curse, Molly decorated Anderson with bruising hits and slices. She gave him no time to recover. She swung her weapon, throwing her full weight and rage behind each hit, knowing that any pause would give Anderson an opening to attack. She did not pay heed to where she hit so long as Anderson wasted his energy fending her off. Sweat dripped down Molly's forehead as she thrashed him.

Despite her determination, fatigue eventually forced Molly to stop. She delivered one last blow before tottering back. Panting, she raised her bare hand and wiped away the heavy band of sweat from her forehead. Her protected hand clung to her weapon. Tiny rivulets of blood trickled down the bat while small flecks of skin clung to the rings of blades. Anderson lay crumpled on the ground, ragged gasps escaping him. His clothes were torn and blood flowed freely through them. His back and arms screamed with pain. His head throbbed from the blows Molly managed to land. Despite her threat, Anderson had managed to keep his head somewhat protected. Blood trickled down his face from the slices on his temples and forehead. It was clear to Molly that he was in no position to attack.

After a moment of rest, Molly took up her weapon. The sooner she finished off Anderson, the sooner she could tend to her charge. Grasping the handle tightly in both hands, she stepped towards Anderson. She raised her weapon high. A shuffle behind her froze her. A knowing tremor shook her. The shuffling grew louder. Molly turned around.

Her heart dropped.

Out of the shadows and buildings emerged dozens of monsters. They were men, women, and several children of various ages. A few were like Anderson in appearance. They were still human in appearance, but, like Anderson, bore the telltale markers of what they were. Molly gulped when she saw the _other_ monsters.

When the plague struck, it did not show mercy to its victim. It ripped through every cell of the individual, causing pain that left them contorted on the ground in agonizing poses. Their mouths gaped for a scream that would never emerge. The plague meticulously transformed its victim from a thinking human being to a creature who lived to hunt, kill, and feast. The victim's brain and mind were fully engulfed by the plague. All memories, loves, wants, and needs disappeared. The only care they had was seeking human flesh. They hunted in the tattered remains of their clothing or naked. They were grimy, filthy things who lurked in the darkest nooks and crannies of every building and even underground.

Once fully engulfed, a monster recognized nothing it once knew. It was not uncommon during the plague's initial onslaught to see children attacking parents or parents gorging on their young. Molly still remembered a horrible day when she witnessed a middle-aged man ripping apart an elderly man and devouring his intestines in the middle of the crosswalk. He devoured them with gleeful relish. The only scrap of humanity she saw was when he allowed two child monsters to feast. Many of the deaths in those days were from loved ones who tried to rouse the monster from their infected slumber.

Physically, there were other changes. A victim's digestive system changed to accommodate the consumption of human blood, flesh, and innards. The limbs lengthened to the point a monster could lope along the ground like an animal with ease. The senses of sight, taste, sound, and smell became sharper and clearer. The eyes grew larger to allow in light. The teeth remained relatively normal, but became stronger and sharper. The talons were the ultimate giveaway. These were the monsters that joined their more human-looking counterparts in the street.

Molly slowly turned around. Every monster was shifting their attention between her and the man. Some shuffled forward on all fours, eagerness evident in their faces. Anderson disappeared into the growing crowd. Molly could not see him, but swore she heard him chortling. As the crowd grew larger, Molly weighed her options. She knew she had not chance of fending them off with her weapon. The monsters would kill her and the man and fight amongst themselves for their bodies. There was only one option.

The monsters halted when Molly grasped her weapon in her free hand and raised it high. Some crouched low. They were ready to spring and kill if Molly attempted to fend them off. They waited, watching Molly carefully.

Molly's index fingers made the move. Her bare finger pressed a second button on the handle of her weapon. The protected finger flexed into her palm. The monsters closest to her made to spring, but stopped when two things happened. All the monsters scrambled back when something shot out of the top of Molly's weapon. A trail of delicate silver smoke followed the object that rose high into the air. The monsters could see it was a small black sphere that had moving red markings on it. They stared as it suddenly stopped well above the street, hovering for a few moments. All leapt back in fright as it exploded into a miasma of bright red. The light lit up the street for several seconds before fading out.

The second thing happened as the object flew into the air. Molly's gauntlet began to glow a deep-orange. Crackles of yellow appeared at the fingers. Taking advantage of the lull, Molly moved closer to the man. Dropping to her knees, she lay her weapon beside him and pulled off her glowing gauntlet. She lay it on the ground beside her and tapped the middle finger twice. When the object exploded overhead, the gauntlet immediately moved. The forearm section remained still as the hand part detached and zoomed around Molly and the man. It formed a ring of rich orange that closed when the fingers extended and inserted themselves into the opening of the forearm. Molly lay a hand on her weapon, eyeing the monsters as the light overhead faded.

When they resumed their attentions on the two humans, they squawked in rage. The humans were now inside an glowing ring. The male was still unconscious while the female stared back at them warily. The younger monsters crouched low and approached the humans slowly. They raised their hands and gingerly touched the air. They hissed and yanked their hands back. Something stood between them and their feast. It delivered a quick sting to whatever touched it. The monsters with excellent sight could see it was a hazy, dome-shaped barrier that covered the humans.

For several minutes, Molly pondered what the monsters would do. A few, apparently unwilling to exert effort, departed. The majority remained around her, staring at her and the man. She could hear Anderson huffing about, but did not care what he was doing. All she wanted to know was whether the monsters would depart or try to break the barrier.

After a few moments, the monsters began to depart. Molly craned her neck to see them loping and shuffling off into the shadows. Though she felt horrid for thinking it, she prayed they would find sustenance elsewhere. Once the last few departed, Molly cast her gaze upon the man.

"I really wish you would wake up," she scolded gently, "I really don't know how I'm going to carry you and there's no telling if help is coming. I just wish you'd give me some sign that you can hear me."

She fell silent, hoping her words were penetrating the void the man's conscious was trapped in. Alas, the man did not stir or even give the slightest indication he was becoming conscious. Sighing, Molly grasped her weapon and reached for her gauntlet. A voice within stopped her.

_Don't do it! They're coming back! Don't do it!_

Molly raised her head and looked around.

"Help me," she whispered as dozens of monsters charged towards her.

Mrs. Hudson stifled her scream as she watched the dozens become a horde. Through her binoculars, she watched as six of the bigger monsters threw themselves against Molly's dome-shield. She could see Molly's face contort with fright as the monsters ricocheted off the dome and landed on the street. They quickly leapt forward and began slashing at the dome. Crackles of orange appeared where their talons landed. Two then took a few steps back and again threw themselves against the shield. Though they were thrown back, they picked themselves up and repeated their action. Molly's face was frozen in terror. The man beside her was still oblivious to the danger.

Lowering her binoculars, Mrs. Hudson cast a look about her. She was on the roof of one of the few tall buildings still standing in London. It gave her an excellent view of the surrounding streets. With the aid of her binoculars, she could see enemy and friend before they were near. It was helpful, but the problem now was distance. Molly was three streets away. Mrs. Hudson knew her shield could withstand repeated strikes over a short period of time. The persistence of the monsters would wear this defense down quickly. Molly's only hope was for someone to see her flare and rush to aid. Fortunately for her, Mrs. Hudson had not only seen the flare, but had one of her own.

Reaching into her coat pocket, Mrs. Hudson pulled out a small black sphere with green stripes. Grasping the top firmly, she twisted the bottom section twice before she tossed it as best as she could into the air. She managed to toss it high enough before it exploded into a cloud of green. It evaporated quickly.

"All right, someone, answer," she muttered as she took up her binoculars.

She alternated between the streets and skyline quickly. She could see that the explosion had roused some monsters out of their lairs in neighboring buildings. Her heart dropped to the street when she beheld the sight of many more monsters scurrying through the streets. The humanoids loped alongside their more monstrous counterparts in one direction. Mrs. Hudson knew they were heading for Molly.

A distant boom drew her gaze upward. Somewhere in a section of the city directly across from her, someone released another flare. A glittery haze of gold made her smile in relief.

"Good job, Angelo," she said. She knew Angelo and Harry would race towards her. She silently hoped they would see the migration of monsters and realize the greater danger.

Knowing help was coming, Mrs. Hudson took one last look at Molly. Molly's situation was worsening. The horde of monsters surrounding her was steadily multiplying. Mrs. Hudson could not count them all, but guessed there were well over a hundred monsters crowding into the street, eagerly awaiting the moment the shield broke. The stronger, larger monsters were taking turns bashing the shield any way they could. Some threw themselves against it. Others slashed at it with their talons while others pounded it with their forearms. Through the wall of monsters, Mrs. Hudson could make out Molly's petrified face.

With a huff, Mrs. Hudson lowered her binoculars and reached for her weapon. Her late husband's priceless samurai sword had been her trusted weapon since the plague hit. It had proven to be a valuable asset when confronting monsters. She gripped the cold handle and held it up. The curving blade seemed to glow in the dark.

"Well, old friend," said Mrs. Hudson as she turned and strode towards the fire escape on the opposite side of the roof, "let's go to slaughter."

Mrs. Hudson prayed that the shield would keep until she arrived.

_Hello, everyone! My deepest apologies for the tardiness of this chapter and its overall length. Academics and general lack of ideas made this one hard to put together. Now that I'm on break, I'm going to try and finish this story up. In ch. 4, I will try to up the violence and gore as best as I can. _


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